


Hope for Neal, Mozzies Greatest Con

by absentmindedwriter



Category: White Collar
Genre: Canon Compliant, Major character death - Freeform, Spoilers, i don't really know what i'm doing, idk - Freeform, if you haven't watched it don't read, ish, or where these things go, spoilers for the season finale, that's important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:50:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absentmindedwriter/pseuds/absentmindedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is my interpretation of the end of the finale, there are spoilers, so please don't read if you haven't watched the finale.  I think that mozz set up all that stuff for peter, you'll see just read.  I don't own anything.  enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope for Neal, Mozzies Greatest Con

“We’re gonna get you out of this.” Peter promised.  
“I don’t think so.” Neal disagreed. He knew deep down his plan had gone wrong.  
“Don’t, don’t say that.”  
“You’re the only one who saw good in me.”  
“Stop it Neal.”  
“You’re my best friend.” If this was the last time he saw Peter, he had to let him know. 

. . .

“Would you like to see him, then?” The doctor asked. Peter and Mozz followed him to the morgue and watched as he unzipped the black body bag. Mozz was the first to speak.  
“No no. It’s not possible. This isn’t him. Of course not, this isn’t him. This isn’t Neal.” And then Mozzie did as he’d always done, tried to find something, anything, that could explain this, no matter how outlandish it may be. “Same as JFK, the decoy hearse, they took Kennedy’s body out of his casket at Andrew’s Air Force Base and brought him to Bethesda Naval Hospital. There were two different caskets.”  
“Stop it Mozzie, just stop it.” Peter snapped, hitting the lab table with his palm with a resounding bang, halting Mozz mid-sentence. “He’s gone.”  
“No no.” Mozzie’s voice shook. “Because it’s Neal. He can’t be gone.”  
“Mozzie he’s right there.” Peter stepped up beside him. “You need to look at him. You’ve gotta look Mozzie. He’s dead.” Because the thing was, Peter couldn’t accept it either. The two of them had tried to con him too many times, if Mozzie didn’t believe he was dead, then he wasn’t dead. Simple as that. “Look.”  
“It can’t be him, Peter.” But Peter couldn’t look at Mozzie, because Mozzie wasn’t that good an actor. For goodness sakes, the man could barely speak. “Neal always had it figured out. There was always a way out. Didn’t matter how tight the scrape, Neal could always slide past. He could always get away.”  
“Not this time.”  
“No. No. No.” The other man finally broke down, leaning over his fallen friend. “No, no, no, no-o-o-o-“ Peter hesitated, then set his hand on Mozzie’s back in comfort.

. . .

“One identification badge, twelve hotel key cards to various hotels,” the orderly listed off, handing Peter the items one by one, “a thirty-eight caliber bullet for evidence, one white pocket square, one key, one tracking anklet.” He walked away. Peter held the anklet in his hand, the undeniable proof that this was really happeningl.  
“You’re free.” He almost smiled at the thought. “You’re free.” Then he sat down on the bench in the hallway, and started to cry. 

. . .

One Year Later.

Peter’s alarm went off and he got up from his desk and grabbed his jacket, almost swearing he could see Neal’s reflection in the window as he plays with his hat, flashing that infamous Neal smile. Jones knocks at his door.  
“Mm. Almost down to 6 p.m. That’s a new record.”  
“No, check your watch. It’s 5:58. I moved it a head a few minutes.” He sounded so proud.  
“Impressive. Listen, we’re closing the Mortenson case tonight, one last stake out. You in?”  
“Nah. Nah, El’s cooking dinner. Sign me up for the morning shift.” He compromised. “I’ll bring coffee.”  
“You know, you’re the only A-Sec I know who turns down the dream job at White Collar DC to bring coffee to the stake out team at dawn.”  
“I could bring the baby if you prefer.” Peter told him.  
“Ah.” Jones hesitated.  
“That’s what I thought.” Peter chuckled, then turned serious. “You’re in charge. Make me proud.” One by one they left the office and headed downstairs, where Peter found Diana. “DC, here she comes. I’m gonna miss you.”  
“Then come with me. Brass is clamoring for the man who brought down the Pink Panthers. They want you to reconsider their offer.” They smiled at each other, both proud.  
“Yeah. This is where I belong. Can’t convince you to stay?”  
“You’d have to tell my parents they don’t get to babysit Theo everyday.” Diana pointed out.  
“Woah. Robbing grandparents of joy? No thanks.”  
“You know, I’m only two hundred miles away, if you ever need help on a case.”  
“Two hundred and twenty-six. I googled it.” The conversation had been playful, but then he saw Neal sitting at his old desk, goofing around with a rubber-band ball. Then someone passed in front of him and the sight, and the vision was gone. 

. . .

“Hey, looky, looky, looky. Hey diddle diddle the queen’s in the middle.” Mozz drew a crowd on the sidewalk. “Follow her fast, follow her slow, you pick that little lady, and you win.” The girl picked the card. “Ooh, too bad honey, better luck next time. So, any other takers?”  
“Yeah.” Peter flashed his badge. “I’ll play.” The crowd dispersed.  
“Suit!”  
“Been a while, Mozz.”  
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” They greeted each other and Mozz got down to business.  
“We’ve got all the Panther’s serving life, but somehow, a matter of twenty-three million dollars went unaccounted for.”  
“Oh, that’s just sounds like sloppy government accounting.”  
“Mm. Almost nine million was recovered from Keller that day. You wouldn’t have any idea where other went.”  
“I earn an honest living now.” Mozz laughed at the ‘honest’.  
“I can see that.” Peter grinned along.  
"How are you Peter?” Mozz asked seriously.  
“I see him, you know?” Peter told him. “His face. I’ll catch him out of the corner of my eye, and just for a minute he’s real.”  
“I hear him.” Mozz commiserated. ‘Hey Mozz’ in the roar of a subway going by or his laugh in a Taxi horn.”  
“I turn, but he’s never there.”  
“’Can’t help that’ said the cat ‘we’re all mad here’.”  
“I keep telling myself if I’d just got there a minute sooner.”  
“Ah. Stage three. Bargaining. Myself, stage four.”  
“Depression?” Peter questioned. Mozzie nodded. “I would have figured you for denial.” Mozz laughed.  
“No more conspiracy theories.” He held out a card, a Queen of Hearts. “Look. This is the queen he played me with the day we met. He conned me right here, on this spot.” Peter laughed. “He gave me this card just before the job, and for the longest time I thought he knew. He knew he was gonna die so he gave me this to say goodbye. If he knew that, it must have been a con. Neal Caffrey’s greatest con!”  
“But it wasn’t.” Peter stated. Mozz shook his head.  
“Thus I move from denial to depression.” The entire conversation he’d been smiling and happy, but Peter could see through it to the sadness.  
“You should stop by the house sometime.” Peter invited. “El misses you. And you have to see the boy!” Mozz laughed.  
“I’d like that.”  
“Good. See ya, Haversham.”  
“Winters.” Mozz corrected. “Teddy Winters.” Peter walked away. Mozz gave him a few seconds before returning to the card tricks. 

. . .

“And then using the magical box with the map inside,” Mozz crooned to the young boy, “the white knight joined up with the black knight to find the treasure in the submarine. But the evil war-lord got there first, and forced the knights into the submarine, which was booby trapped with TNT!”  
“We can skip that part.” El interrupted. Unbeknownst to either of them, Peter approached from behind.  
“Oh, so we find the treasure,” Mozz continues, “but then the war-lord tricks them, and uses dark magic to make it disappear. The End.”  
“That’s the whole story?” Peter questions.  
“Hey.” El greets.  
“Yep.” Mozz affirms. “I’m sticking to it.”  
“Well I think Neal likes it.” El talks to her baby. “Don’t ya? Yeah.”  
“Well, he’s a man with impeccable taste. That’s why he gets to keep Mozart.” Mozz pointed to his old stuffed bear. The first of the parting gifts.  
“Oh, that’s sweet, thanks Mozz.” El tells him.  
“You didn’t waste any time.” Peter moves forward to make faces at his son.  
“Well you said I could come by.”  
“I did. Stay for dinner.”  
“Nice try, suit.” Mozz starts to rise from his position on the floor. “You know I can’t stay in one place for too long.” The first hint. “Hey, suit?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I’ll see you around.” The first (just for this particular con) lie.  
“Okay.” Peter smiles, and it’s kind of bitter-sweet that he didn’t catch the untruth. Neither of them realized it was Mozz who’d left the bottle of Bordeaux (the second of the parting gifts) on the front porch. But Mozzie knew he’d figure it out soon enough

. . .

Peter does indeed make a connection when he sees the number branded on the cork. Bordeaux- Kate, Kate- Neal, Neal and his little cons- that unexplained key that’s always nagged at the back of his mind. The next day he finds himself at that storage shed.  
All of that evidence, all of that planning, everything lining up and fitting perfectly. It was just like Neal to do something like this, and it didn’t take long for Peter to put everything together, just a quick glance. He’d always been able to figure Neal out, see what he was up too. But this time, he didn’t look beyond what he wanted to see, the implication that Neal had planned all of this and was alive- in France, judging by the newspaper (though he really had no way of telling how long it had been there).  
Didn’t stop to think about that little Queen of Hearts, other than to pick it up. This mean Neal was alive, out there somewhere, and in his opinion the world was a little bit brighter place for his presence on it. He walked away from the unit, heart lighter than it had been in a year.  
But the card was there.  
The card that would have meant nothing to Peter if he hadn’t had that conversation with Mozz the day before.  
The card that by all rights, Mozz should still have with him, one last memento from his best friend.  
It didn’t matter, because Peter could just see Neal walking down the pretty Paris street, fitting in with the charming scene perfectly, happily.  
Mozz had realized a lot in this past year, realized among other things just how much (and good luck getting him to admit it out loud) Peter had in his own way been trying to help Neal. Sometimes even Mozzie, too.  
So this was his version of thanks, setting up the old storage unit he’d found of Neal’s a few months ago to make it look like Neal had planned everything. He didn’t have to set everything up, Neal really had been planning in there, just had to fill in the gaps for Peter. Mozz had meant what he’d said about moving from denial to depression, it was almost devastating to see how carefully Neal had planned for what had happened and know that it had been in vain.  
Giving Peter hope for Neal, Mozzie’s greatest con. Built on the wreckage of Neal’s.  
It was too much, so he had to move on. So he left everything he had connecting the two of them in that storage unit. He was out of the city by dawn.


End file.
